The Almost Invincible Pride of Kamijou Hiroki
by ForbiddenTemptations
Summary: Nowaki wants to adopt a little girl! What is Hiroki to do? Can he bring himself to consider it, or will he crush his lover's pleas? Better yet, maybe Nowaki can break through Hiroki's proud armor with some good old-fashioned loving...
1. The Proposal

"Hiro-san, I want to have a baby!"

It happens to be a relaxing Friday evening when he springs this on me. Of course, I have to use the word "relaxing" apprehensively. In our small apartment, any length of placid time is merely a ticking time bomb in disguise.

And then there's me, the gunpowder.

Light the fuse and I'll explode.

The water I'm drinking catches in my throat. "_What?"_ I bark, hacking it out of my lungs. "Why?"

"_Because,_" Nowaki exasperates, "babies are sweet, and I-"

"Absolutely not," I state firmly once my throat is clear. Nowaki gapes at me as I save the document I'm typing on my laptop and shut the device down. It's gonna have to wait till later.

"Why not?" he bleats.

"Babies are nothing but nuisances." I angrily shut the laptop, place it on the cushion next to me, and cross my arms. "They just cry and make messes and they never let anyone get any sleep."

"We could get a little girl," my lover insists. "Girls are the sweetest things!"

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I can feel his determined gaze boring into me from the other end of the couch. God, he's like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"Where did all this come from?" I finally ask. I'm careful to keep my head bowed and my eyes closed to avoid falling under Nowaki's spell.

"This girl at the hospital named Yuki," he says excitedly. "I work with her at the hospital. She has leukemia, so she's there a lot, and she's only eight years old. Just yesterday she drew me a picture and it was so sweet…" He trails off but then picks right back up. "And it hit me- I want to have a family with you, Hiro-san."

I try vainly to repress the massive influx of blood to my cheeks. How can he say something like that so bluntly? "Raising a child is a huge responsibility," I remind him with forced calmness. "You can't just…start a family on a whim."

"Ah, yes, I know that," he continues, tripping over his own tongue. "I thought about that already. I can take time off work to raise her, and then we'll finally have more time to spend together, and-"

"Nowaki, listen," I interrupt. "We can't just drop everything to raise a kid we don't need. That requires so much commitment." I finally force myself to look into his pleading, stone-blue eyes.

"I know that, Hiro-san-"

"And why did you just decide this all on your own?" I realize. For the umpteenth time today, my blood starts boiling.

"I didn't," he insists, "that's why I'm-"

"So stop pushing this on me all at once! We're both extremely busy; there's no way we could do that!" I snap at him. My anger is surging at this point. I glare at Nowaki through narrowed eyes and I can feel the wrinkles in my brow forming.

"We _could_," Nowaki persists. His hands are clasped beneath his chin, and I'm sickened by the fact that he looks like a spoiled little brat at Christmastime. "We really could, if we just took a little risk-"

"I don't _want_ to take a risk!" I yell. My fist slams down against the armrest of the couch as the harsh words fly out of my mouth. "We're fine the way we are!"

"Please, just think about it," he begs.

"_Enough, Nowaki!"_ I explode, jumping to my feet. _"We are not getting a kid!"_

His eyebrows raise in shock. I can only meet his wounded gaze for a second before I spin on my heel and stalk out of the room.

"I'm going to bed," I mutter.

"Okay…goodnight," I hear him murmur loyally as I add to the distance between us.


	2. The Influence

Why do I always do this?

I'm laying on my back under a few layers of silky sheets. My eyes are closed but I'm far from asleep.

Why can't I just be myself around him?

I allow myself a long sigh. I need to get my head to stop spinning.

And why did he bring this up all of a sudden? Why does he even want a kid, anyway? They just smell bad and cry.

I roll over onto my side, but nothing seems able to eliminate this gnawing anxiety.

Or…maybe I just don't want to face the fact that-

My train of thought is interrupted by the creak of the door as it opens. Heavy feet lumber in and I find myself tensing up. The door is quietly shut and I listen as my lover paws through the dresser drawer for some bedclothes.

Eventually I feel him slide into bed beside me. Or, more technically, _behind_ me. My eyes open silently. As soon as the blankets are resituated he wraps his arms around my middle. Ever so gently, he pulls me back against his warm, bare chest. I immediately smell shampoo and I flush red when our skin touches.

I let myself be enveloped by him. But honestly, I can't believe he doesn't feel how stiff I am.

"Hiro-san," I hear him croon. He pulls my lower body even closer against his and bends his knees up into the crooks of mine. "Hiroki."

"I told you not to call me that," I mutter before I can stop myself.

He jolts as the first syllable escapes my lips. "You're awake?" he asks incredulously.

"Obviously."

"Oh…I'm sorry. I thought you were sleeping." Nevertheless, his arms tighten a little more around my torso.

I want to flip out at him, but I'm just too mentally exhausted from thinking about the whole baby thing. So the silence drags on. Eventually, I decide to take action. It's a bit outside my comfort zone, to say the least.

"Hey, Nowaki…" I begin.

"Yes?"

Don't chicken out!

"I, er…sorry for yelling. Earlier." Damn, I suck at this.

Nowaki's arms disappear from around my waist. "What?" he breathes as his upper body perks up into a partial sitting position. "Really?"

I curl up into a ball. Thank God I'm not facing him. "Yes, you dumb kid."

"Oh, Hiro-san, thank you," he coos. Relief floods his voice as he leans down to hold me again. He somehow manages to work his arms beneath my stiff ones. "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he whispers into my ear as his arms snake across my stomach.

"Er, okay." I'm hyperaware of his climbing body temperature and my ear burns where his breath had tickled it.

"Does that mean you'll consider it?" he asks in a silky voice. One of his hands slides furtively down the side of my body.

I can already feel his manhood hardening against my ass. "I don't know yet," I say shakily.

"That's good enough for me." He punctuates the sentence with a sweet kiss on top of my disheveled head.

I shudder and say nothing in return. I simply wait to see where his hand goes.

It gravitates to my crotch. Of course.

[To read the rest of this fix, please follow this link: yourfanfiction{DOT}com/viewstory{DOT}php?sid=3875&textsize=0&chapter=2 but replace {DOT} with a period. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I was told that lemon fics have been taken down from FFnet! I don't want this to happen to my account so I'm gonna play it safe. So please bear with me. Again, I'm really sorry.


	3. The Aftermath

You have to be married to adopt kids?

I scrunch my eyes into a glare as I look over the frames of my glasses and at my computer screen. On top of being irritated from all these ridiculous prerequisites, I had to bring one of my good down pillows out to the kitchen to sit on. A certain _someone_ ravaged my ass last night. I've recovered for the most part but I'm still sore.

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm researching the adoption process. I'm supposed to be grading papers, from both my students and Miyagi's, I can't help being curious about what has to be done to adopt a child.

But that doesn't mean anything! I don't even _want_ a dumb kid…I already have one, anyway.

I've already been at it for at least an hour and every page I drift to only offers negative information for my situation. You have to be x amount of years old, you have to be married for more than three years, you have to be this and that….

Soon my thoughts are broken by the muffled jingling of keys outside the door. The crunch of one entering the lock is all I need to sound my mental alarm.

"Shit," I say quietly as I close the internet window. I quickly shut my computer and push it aside, careful not to knock over the tea I just poured myself. My hand seeks out my favorite editing tool, my red pen, as I grab a half-finished essay. Right on cue the door opens.

"I'm home," calls a certain tired voice. He sounds even more run down than usual.

"Welcome back," I reply. We go through this short ritual daily. It adds some much-needed consistency to our lives.

I listen carefully for what he does next. I pick out the thumps of his big shoes coming off, the whisper of his jacket being hung. When I hear him enter the room I pretend to be intensely focused on my work.

I see Nowaki come lumbering in out of the corner of my eye. He's slowly rubbing his forehead and eyes. Definitely tired.

Clearing my throat, I pause from my work to take a sip of my tea. Cold? Didn't I just make it? As I put it down Nowaki passes me from behind. With his free hand he gently squeezes my shoulder and brushes his fingers along my neck. It's a little, effortless gesture, but to this day it makes my heart pound.

"How was work?" he asks warmly. He leans heavily against the back of the couch so he can look at me. I circle a typo on the paper but I don't look at him.

"Fine." I keep reading.

"Why are you sitting on that pillow?" he asks after a few moments.

"Why do you think?"

I feel bad for always snapping at him like that, but I can't help it. It's reflexive.

"But I was gentle last night…"

I snatch up the closest small object - a freshly edited paper - and throw it at him. It hits him square in the face with a light smacking noise. "Don't get cocky! It's because I've been working all day in this stupid chair grading both my students' and Miyagi's students' papers. My back hurts!" I growl, finally turning to face him. At least this claim is half true.

Nowaki just peels the literature from his face to reveal his grin. "I see" is all he says.

I squint at him for a moment longer before busily returning to the essay of a student who is not mine.

Moments later I spy Nowaki looking around the kitchen. "I'm guessing you didn't make dinner?" he ventures.

"Dinner? But it's only-" I start. But what I see on my watch stops my tongue in its tracks. Two in the morning?! "…oh." I guess my research warped my sense of time. I thought I had only been online for an hour or two since I got home…how long was I drifting around cyberspace?

"Don't worry about it," Nowaki says. But I can hear the exhausted disappointment in his voice. Like he's finished, defeated. Though I'd never admit it aloud, I hate to let him down. Because when I let him down, I feel like I'm letting myself down. It boils down to feeling like I hurt myself. My stomach sinks.

Shut up.

"My fault," I mutter. It's as close as he'll get to an "I'm sorry." But at least now I'm actually facing him, my work facade forgotten.

"It's okay," Nowaki sighs. "I'll just go to bed." He stands straight and takes a few steps toward the bedroom. I watch him go. But I still can't believe I was so absorbed in my research that I forgot it was my night to make dinner.

Nowaki stumbles and almost loses his balance. Thankfully he catches himself using the doorframe to our bedroom, but I still practically jump out of my skin. "Nowaki!" I almost shout. I'm by his side in an instant. That's also reflexive.

"No, I'm fine," he mumbles as I help him up.

"You certainly are not. You need to stop exhausting yourself like this, moron." My cheeks get hot when I put an arm around him and help him walk into the bedroom.

"I can't…"

"Why not?" I huff as I help him to the bed. God, he's heavy.

He gratefully plops down on the edge. "You know, I have to look after the children," he says softly after a moment. His eyes close slowly, as if he were about to fall asleep sitting up.

I just watch him for a minute. He truly is the epitome of dedication. "Come on, wake up," I finally say. "You need to sleep."

Nowaki doesn't complain as he cracks open his bloodshot eyes. With a great effort he gets up onto his feet and starts to get undressed.

Well, my work here is done. I start to leave to leave the room when I hear his voice mumble something.

"What?" I say, turning back around.

Nowaki is standing there, his shirt abandoned on the floor. I will my eyes not to travel down his spacious chest. "Come to bed with me," he says softly. His tired eyes are both despondent and endearing. I force myself to look away as my chest tightens up.

What do I do?

"Sorry, I'm in the middle of a paper," I say. I halfheartedly attempt to sound annoyed. He knows I don't just…do things like that. I can't.

He knows, and yet he still offers me the chance. He still opens the door for me just so I can slam it shut.

Well, maybe this time I just gently closed it.

I leave the room, shutting the non-metaphorical door behind me. When I gingerly settle back down on my pillowed chair, I'm faced with my these stupid essays again. I sigh and prop my chin up on one hand, having lost whatever little gusto I had. With my free hand I pick up my cold cup of tea and swirl it a little. The bits of leaves at the bottom swim around in a confused, anxious frenzy around the bottom of the cup.

It's like I'm looking through a window to my brain.

oooOOOooo

Only thirty minutes later do I finally slink into the bedroom, tail between my legs. I know Nowaki won't be getting up, but I still feel so ashamed. I'm sneaking around behind his back looking up the required features of a household to properly raise a child. What am I thinking? What am I trying to achieve?

I go into my bathroom to brush my teeth. I wash my face, too, making sure to slap some sense into myself with some icy water. I give myself a good, numbing splashing before I look up into the mirror. I glare at my reflection.

"Get ahold of yourself," I snarl quietly.

Soon enough I climb into bed. I don't need to be that careful since Nowaki is already snoring away. I face away from him, as I usually do. A part of me desperately wishes he'll wake up and pull me into his arms, but I silence it. I need to focus on sorting out why I feel the way I do about this whole adoption thing. What _do _I feel, anyway? We haven't even spoken of it since that night. So maybe it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. He can't possibly be serious, right? Surely he must know the prerequisites, too. Like marriage. Which, in our case, is illegal here.

A-and it's not like I'd ever consider doing that anyway! Two working men, getting married…bah!

I mash my face into my pillow to hide my infuriatingly red blush from nonexistent eyes. My mind is spewing nonsense, that's all! I'm just so tired that I'm getting delirious. Yes, that's it.

I dare roll over a few minutes later. Nowaki has stopped snoring by now, so I have no way of telling whether he's asleep or not. He seems to be, so I relax a little.

I carefully study the man laying in bed next to me. He's on his back, so I have a good view of his moonlit profile.

….Marriage, huh?

My eyes drink in the sight of his face since my brain is too preoccupied to resist. His sloping nose, his familiar rosebud lips, expressive angled eyebrows, his mass of wild yet controlled charcoal hair….

…And, and! And his stupid brat face, with his stupid brat smile-!

I feel my placid face ignite. Goddammit! What kind of buffoon thinks like that?!

I growl out loud as I whip my body around again. How dare I fall victim to him when he's asleep! Why, I oughtta smother myself with a pillow right now for having such thoughts!

It's a solid minute before I let go of the angry breath I'm holding. My anger goes with it.

I need to sleep and I can't do it if I'm livid. Simple as that. I give an indignant "Hmph" at the thought.

I close my eyes but nothing happens.

Seconds pass. Minutes pass.

I must be closing in on a half hour before I open my eyes again. I give a defeated sigh.

Dammit.

With a steady stream of quiet curses leaving my mouth, I inch closer to Nowaki. Backwards.

And I swear, when our skin makes contact he releases the happiest sigh I've ever heard.


	4. The Encounter

Hello readers! I give my humblest apologies for not updating in a while. I hope you still give this story a chance because I haven't forgotten about it! I'm a college freshman so finding time to write is hard. Positive feedback is a good way to spur me on though. :) Read and review please! I love getting reactions.

Happy reading!

* * *

><p>I've kept careful track of the days that have gone by since that night.<p>

Six. Maybe at the turn of the week Nowaki will forget about the whole stupid adoption thing. It's been eating away at me ever since and I already have enough on my plate with work.

I roll onto my side and pull the bedsheets higher. Yes, come tomorrow I should finally be free of these thoughts. There's even a school holiday, so I have a three-day weekend to look forward to.

Things are looking up for me.

As if on cue, Nowaki exits the bathroom. My heartbeat picks up speed as I hear his heavy footsteps on the carpet. I'm practically holding my breath by the time he gets into bed.

"Are you asleep?" he asks softly. He starts rearranging the blankets around us both.

I lay silently for a minute. "No," I finally admit.

"I thought so," he says, his voice gentle. He pulls my body back against his chest and I can't help but marvel at how effortlessly we fit together. It's like my body has adapted to complement his shape over the years.

I just grunt quietly in response. His skin is damp and extra hot against my back.

Seconds pass. Finally, he speaks. "Hiro-san?" comes his tentative question.

"What?" My heart thuds. His voice sounds heavy.

"You have the day off tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

I can feel Nowaki hesitate. His breath hitches the tiniest bit against the back of my head. Not good. "Would you…come to work with me?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Well…I want you to meet Yuki."

So much for my relaxing weekend.

oooOOOooo

"I still don't want to do this." Despite my words I'm standing before Nowaki's hospital. This is the last place I want to be on my holiday. I could be getting ahead in my work, or at the bookstore, or finally getting started on a few of those home improvement projects…not to mention I'd rather throw myself off the edge of a building than see stupid Tsumori again. And according to Nowaki, that asshole still works here.

"I know. But please, Hiro-san, do this for me." Nowaki is a few steps ahead of me in his usual dark turtleneck.

"I'm not staying all day," I warn as we start walking again. "I'll meet the slobbering kid and then be on my way."

"Hiro-san, I assure you, Yuki is very different from whatever you have in mind."

Yeah, right. I've seen those kids before. I've seen how they act towards you, laughing and smiling and not having a care in the world. Uneducated brats…like hell I'd want to meet one. I'm doing this for you, moron.

I glare at the back of his tousled head as we enter the building. The receptionist immediately brightens when she sees Nowaki. He greets her and compliments her hair, sending her into a mild tizzy. Ugh. She recoils a little when she sees me, though. Her smile vanishes and everything. "Hello," I say just keeps giving me that strange look. As I walk away I raise a hand to poke at the space between my eyebrows. It's furrowed and creased. "Brow wrinkles," huh….

I follow Nowaki around until we finally get to a back room. It's about time, I was about to vomit from all the sappy compliments and small talk he was throwing around to everyone he saw. The room is pretty clear and empty save for a line of lockers against the perimeter. There's a nice atmosphere in here too; quite the opposite of all the hustle and bustle in the hospital halls. Time seems to stand still here.

Nowaki sets down the Boston bag he's carrying down on a chair. He takes out some clean clothes and stashes them away in his designated locker. Stockpiling for some late nights, I guess.

I lean against a different locker and cross my arms. I say nothing as Nowaki finishes unpacking and pulls on one of his long white coats. He delicately places his stethoscope around his neck for the finishing touch. I find that my eyes are glued to him; I've only seen him in uniform a handful of times. I must admit that he looks…handsome. More so than usual.

"So where's this kid?" I ask. I force my gaze to the ground; I feel the tight sensation of a blush coming on. The last thing he needs is another thing to be smug about. He was already much too persuasive in getting me to come with him today….

"She's in the south wing. She was in intensive care up until this past Tuesday, but her symptoms have gotten better. That's why I thought this would be a good time to introduce you two."

I look up to find him smiling tenderly at me. I clear my throat and look out the window. "Fine."

I can see it now: a goofy little blonde girl in an oversized bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. Maybe she'll be coloring or doing something else that isn't mentally stimulating. Then Nowaki will waltz in her room and everything will be all smiles and laughter.

The thought makes me sick.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki says, and I'm snapped out of my reverie. Before I can fully react he takes me into his arms and hugs me. "Thank you for doing this for me. It means a lot."

"It's nothing," I lie. I feel that stubborn blush finally surface.

"It's not nothing," Nowaki croons. "I'm…so happy."

I say nothing and I know it relieves him. His stethoscope presses against my chest as he holds me closer. He pulls slightly away to look at me and I'm floored at how utterly contented he looks. His eyes are quivering the tiniest bit as if he were on the verge of crying.

I just stare blankly at him, trying to comprehend his joy. Seeing him this happy almost makes me smile, too.

Almost.

When he leans in to kiss me, I'm already waiting.

Nowaki leads me out of the room, still faintly smiling. He makes several stops to talk with doctors and other employees. All of them give me peculiar looks. It pisses me off.

Finally, after prying off quite a few little kids that were excited to see him, Nowaki ends our trek at a door. Room number 214.

"She's in here," he tells me as he knocks twice on the smooth wood.

The door opens in a few seconds. "Ah, Kusama-san," a brunette nurse says happily. She seems not to have noticed me.

"Good morning, Ryu-san," Nowaki says kindly. "How is she?"

The nurse's eyes sparkle. They must have this conversation a lot. "Better than yesterday. Her health seems to be taking a turn for the better." She starts babbling about test results as she opens the door wider to let Nowaki and myself in. She stops midsentence when she sees me in the doorway. "Oh. Who's this?"

"Ah, my apologies. Ryu-san, this is my-"

"Friend," I interject suddenly. Stupid Nowaki, the last thing anyone in the workplace needs to know is who you're going out with! "My name is Kamijou. I'm nobody suspicious." I struggle to keep a level head.

Nowaki smiles a little out of amusement. Idiot.

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you," the nurse says, bowing slightly. Then she turns back to Nowaki. "I just remembered I have some calls to make. I've given her all her medication for today, so she's taken care of for the time being. You're welcome to stay for a visit." She smiles again and tilts her head a little, already knowing that Nowaki plans to stay.

In a short little flutter of papers and a clipboard, the nurse leaves. The door shuts and suddenly the room is wrapped in a blanket of muted silence save for the quiet beeping of a monitor. A few seconds pass before I realize the beeps are heartbeats. It's eerie.

I suddenly become aware of the fact that Nowaki is no longer by my side. I see the last glimpse of his coat disappearing behind a white mobile curtain near the back of the room. He really can't wait to see the brat, can he?

I inch closer, taking off my jacket in the process. I lay it on a chair and my brain registers that my palms are sweating. What am I so nervous about?

I dare take another few steps closer to the curtain. I can hear Nowaki's voice murmuring to another. Then I hear a "Hold on" and I jump back a ways and pretend to be extremely interested in a generic paining of a bouquet on the beige wall.

"Hiro-san, come and meet Yuki," Nowaki says as he comes out from behind the curtain.

"I thought you'd never ask," I answer with fake confidence. Why am I so worked up over meeting a dumb kid?

I pass Nowaki and walk around the curtain, actually bracing myself in the case of a squealy hug or other slobbery attempt at contact.

But no.

My heart sputters to a confused halt.

The girl in the bed is the polar opposite of what I'd imagined. The happy, foolish girl is nowhere to be seen. All I see is an angry looking little kid, arms crossed and lower lip slightly pushed forward in a pout.

Is this a joke?

Blinking rapidly, my head quickly swivels to look incredulously at Nowaki. He's just grinning and he gives me an affirmative nod. _Talk to her_, his eyes plead. His eyebrows rise in that irresistible, persuasive way that forces me to turn back around.

The girl focuses her broody eyes on me. When we make eye contact I swear our surroundings are stripped away. All I can think is…

There is something familiar about this child.

"Nice to meet you," comes the forced greeting.

It's as clear and resonating as the peal of a small silver bell. The world jumps back into view.

Huh?

I blink a few final times as my hearing kickstarts. I feel like I've been slammed back into Earth from whatever universe I just came from.

"Um," I mutter. It's all I can do for a moment. Reality starts to sink in. The girl reaches for a wad of yarn on her nightstand. I watch intensely as she picks it up and pulls it over her nearly-bald head.

Oh. It's a crocheted hat.

"Nice to meet you too," I say mechanically as I take a step closer. Get with it, Hiroki! Don't stare, she'll get the wrong idea! "I'm…Kamijou. Kamijou Hiroki."

"Yes, Kamijou-san. Kusama-sensei talks about you a lot."

"Right," I say, forcing a little cough to clear my head. Calm down. Then I realize how much I must be staring at her. I look quickly at the wall, then to the floor.

"I'm used to it," Yuki says, her tone approaching boredom.

"To what?"

"Staring." She pulls her hat down a little more.

Shit. "No, I…I didn't mean..."

"I know." She's not looking at me anymore, either. I can feel it.

The steady beeping of the monitor fills the room again. My gaze falls to rest upon the cushioned chair beside Yuki's bed. I have no doubt that Nowaki put that there in hopes that I'd feel more comfortable talking to this girl.

Nowaki. Where did he-?

"So…Kusama-sensei tells me you like reading," Yuki says, shattering the silence. Some of the boredom is shed and a quiet curiosity has crept into her voice.

"I do," I say automatically. Nowaki evaporates from my mind and I'm drawn back to Yuki like a moth to a lamp. I take another tiny step closer to the chair. There's something so blatantly familiar about this girl, and yet I can't put my finger on it.

"Me too," Yuki mutters. She inspects the IV going into her arm as I finally work up the nerve to sit down next to her. There's a certain air to her, like time itself has been distorted. Despite Yuki's prickly surface, her atmosphere has an unsettling calmness to it….sickly, but calm. Accepting of the fact that she may not have much of a life here on this Earth.

"What do you read?" I ask. Fleeting images of popular kids' books enter my mind. Yes, just because a child is quiet and beautiful doesn't mean she can't have sophomoric tastes in literature.

She deliberates for a few moments. She has to know I'm hanging on her every word. "Ukigumo," she finally says.

My eyes grow wide. Futabei Shimei? Japan's first novelist? The man I revere and teach about? Why, that book is part of my curriculum!

"Really?" I ask incredulously. "That's…incredible." I'm so floored I can barely choke out the words.

"I like how there's no ending," Yuki says simply. "So it can't be sad." She's still looking at her lap, and I come to realize that the book that sits there is none other than Ukigumo itself. The Drifting Cloud. It's a tattered, old copy, with the threads of its binding fraying along the spine. The face is worn and covered in a tired lattice of wrinkles. This book has obviously seen many owners.

And this girl, Yuki. She's so cultured…how old did Nowaki say she is? Less than ten, I believe. She's existed for less than a decade and she's so beyond her time.

But who does she remind me of?

"It can't be happy, then, either," I slowly point out. The controversiality of the "end" of this book often leads to heated debates in my classes. It thrills me to see my students so riled up over literature but I decide not to tell Yuki that she may not be completely correct.

She's quiet for a minute. "I never though of that…."

My heart breaks. Never thought of the possibility of being happy? How can a child think like that? Aren't they all supposed to be carefree and smiley and tickled pink? A somber little girl…it's an oxymoron. I can feel the stereotype in my head shattering.

The child before me is different…special.

I can feel it.


End file.
